Daredevil
by MaggiSakura
Summary: The black dress moved as Maka changed. She couldn't draw the blades in and she couldn't take off the dress and it seemed like that dress was the only comfort she could offer to him by hiding  him with it, by blinding him with it. kinda Asura/Maka.


Let me write this for now. It could fit in the sideways setting and it's mainly made for Maka.

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_-Don't let your victories go to your head, or your failures go to your heart. _

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**Daredevil**

if Maka had watched more carefully she would have noticed that the black dress she wore was slowly becoming accepted by her. The dress she so much despised and so much liked because it helped her in fights, it was an armor that protected, but it was also the insanity she needed to get rid of.

If she had thought before acting, when doing rash things, she would've probably noticed that the ´other her´, was slowly reverting back into one being called Maka Albarn.

"Isn't your dress becoming more and more black with each time you fight with it?" Asura asked and stared it. Maka who was in front of him, probably just following him around before the random question popped up.

"I don't know. I don't have very good color eye."

Each time the dark blade she drew from herself grew more concrete, the dress seemed to move enthusiastically and the floor was soon covered by its moving hem that looked like it had been painted there with dry brush.

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When meeting with the witch queen again, she stared Maka and asked that why she didn't take the dress off. Maka just answered that she couldn't. It wouldn't come off any longer and since it didn't bother anyone she let it be. Mabaa's eyes were in the shadows behind her hat and she was slightly worried.

The process of Maka becoming a weapon was going into a different way than she had anticipated it to.

"How much do you use your weapons powers?" the witch asked.

"About twice in day maybe?" Maka answered and started mumbling something while holding her chin with her index finger.

"That's too much. You should use them only few times a week."

"I can't. The blades keep popping up even when I sleep if I don't use them." Maka answered and when noticing that the Kishin was already nowhere in sight, (probably since he detested Mabaa) Maka quickly started running after the direction which felt like it would be the right one.

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It was very soon made that Maka started carrying the black scythe in her hand, since it wouldn't go back into her body. Asura didn't really mind since it scared off most of the enemies and since it didn't bother him, it didn't bother Maka.

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In the empty death room, when dancing with Shinigami in her black dress and while the death god's darker than black cloak flowed in the air, it seemed to be that the cloak and the dress were not made from so different materials at all.

"Say...what would happen if that blood you're wearing suddenly stopped being a dress and fell onto the ground?" Shinigami asked while letting Maka spin few times and then he took her hand and started taking turns and moves.

"I haven't really thought about. Shouldn't you be worrying about something else?" Maka asked while a grin was coming on her face. Black blood mixed with weapon blood started encircling, dangerously close Shinigami's neck. He could feel the cool blade touching his pale skin.

"Maybe. But so should you." a cool expression didn't leave the older man's face as Shinigami's wavelength started coming near Maka's soul in the deepest corners of her body.

If that was when Maka's soul started accepting only two wavelengths in its beautiful round heart, then it is to be now said that no longer can anyone else wield her than death god and demon god, but since her blood was a mixture of madness and blade, it is much more better for the demon to wield that elegant black blade.

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It was then too when Kid was killed and when war broke out. It was then too when the fragments inside Asura's soul started, weirdly enough, but it must have been because the oldest piece was among them, changing his soul.

When Shinigami raised the black blade's father, Spirit to cut down Asura who was now in the desert lying on his own pool of blood, his scythe of judgment did not pass its will to the low demon god but soon, when a pillar of light ascended to the skies, it was not a form of that low demon but a glorious white ones that held a black scythe, darker than it's father.

It was then that Shinigami had to accept that there was someone, that someone had surpassed him.

What a grieve that it was not Sanzu boy who later got revived. (Kid.)

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When dead's hand was not touching, Maka changed back to her human form and the black dress seemed to be sweating black blood and the hem was tied to the pole of the scythe, as were the black and long gloves.

The face of the lady was carved from sheer ice as her glance pierced through ones armor of mind and caused fear to develop. Maka herself was not scared the slightest. She walked over to the man who had reverted back being a demon god and started saying comforting things to the scared one. The black dress that was coming from the black blade that Asura was holding, seemed to want to envelope him and make him blind even for a second.

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"_I told you she had changed." _little demon said to Soul who was trying to handle the nagging from Gopher.

"Yeah. It seems so." Soul sighed and started walking away with the black haired Spanish boy.

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-_A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in. _

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WHO THE FUCK AM I KIDDING? This is clearly written for sideways. Oh and I wrote this dead tired and on my father's compputer with an openoffice from the Stone Age.

Yeah. I'm back with my messy writing that seem like a ambling of cool text. Oh and the poem like sayings are not made by me. I don't take any credit for them!

Review please! I love reviews!


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